


The Lingering Taste of Blood

by katikat



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dark, Gen, Post-S3B Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 09:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1381987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katikat/pseuds/katikat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Nogitsune is dead. And Stiles doesn't dream. He doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lingering Taste of Blood

Scott doesn't trust him to drive home safely. Not yet. Stiles' hands are still shaking slightly and he's falling asleep in the passenger seat. They drop off Kira and Lydia first, a quick, quiet goodnight with a promise to talk tomorrow. Nobody feels like talking tonight. 

Stiles calls his father on his cellphone while Scott drives them smoothly through the dark streets of Beacon Hills. The police station is a mess, some deputies didn't make it - more deaths on Stiles' conscience - but Stiles' dad promises to leave immediately, his son first and foremost on his mind. In the end, Stiles convinces him to stay there, that he will be okay, really. The sheriff doesn't relent till Scott promises to stay with Stiles. 

When they arrive at the Stilinski house, Stiles tries to send Scott away, home or to the hospital - the scene of yet another massacre - to his mother but Scott refuses to leave. He says he talked to his mom already and that she's okay, that Scott's father is with her, a surprise to both boys. 

Stiles is so tired that he barely makes it up the stairs, he wouldn't have made it if Scott didn't help him. He falls into his bed, barely conscious, remembering Scott saying something about making himself at home downstairs, on the sofa. Stiles wants to stay awake, he wants to be there for Scott, for everyone... but he can't remember the last time he slept, really slept. 

He doesn't dream... 

***

It's barely light outside when Stiles wakes. No, he is woken up. By a persistent, burning, throbbing pain in his right hand that's hanging over the side of his bed. Something wet and warm is sliding down his fingers, plop--plop--plopping onto his carpet. 

Stiles frowns and opens his eyes a crack. Something rustles under his cheek. What...? He's lying on his stomach on top of... photographs. Articles. Strings and paper. Everything that should be pinned to his wall, that was pinned there when he went to sleep. 

Stiles' heart starts hammering. He lifts his right hand... it's covered in blood, a deep slice across his palm, still dripping. 

He jumps up clumsily, dazedly, falling over the side of the bed and down onto the blood soaked carpet, a sharp box cutter lying there, in the middle of a large red stain. He scrambles backwards, whimpering, then crying out in pain as he puts weight onto his cut palm, leaving a bloody hand-print on the carpet, before curling his hand close to his chest. 

Heavy footsteps sound through the house as Scott races up the stairs, calling out Stiles' name in panic...

But Stiles doesn't hear him. He doesn't hear anything over the buzzing in his ears, over the white noise inside his head... because there, on the wall over his bed, a message written in his own blood. 

MISSED ME?


End file.
